Remember
by SecretlyIrish
Summary: Pre/sequel to Who Knew. It's been years, but they finally cross paths again. Trouble is, to Lovino Antonio is nothing more than a face from a dream, and doesn't have any memories from that time. SpaMano
1. Chapter 1

Lovino had always enjoyed art, what with his mother being a fantastic traditional style painter and his father being a designer with a love for art history that snuck its way into his pieces. Hell, even his brother had a foot in the art world as a renowned paintist, so it was only natural that he would attend the local art fair every year. It just so happened that an up and coming artist named Antonio Fernandéz Carriedo happened to be showing up, and that Feliciano had arranged for them to meet.

Feliciano was always pulling stupid stunts to get Lovino a boyfriend.

"Lovi! Over here!" Feliciano called, waving his brother down desperately. Lovino sighed and slowly made his way over, praying that this Antonio was nothing like the last guy Feliciano had tried to set him up with (a very loud, obnoxious man who liked Lovino's least favourite food to the point where Lovino wondered if he fucked them). Lovino's eyes told him that Antonio was probably more tolerable, considering he didn't have a cocky stance, but that didn't always mean anything.

"You don't have to shout, I can hear just fine," Lovino grumbled as soon as he was standing with them. Closer inspection of the (currently spacing out) Antonio proved that he looked exactly like the guy he kept having dreams about, if you could call flashes of a face laughing dreaming. Feliciano nudged Antonio, startling him back into reality, and his focus fell on Lovino.

There was recognition and shock in those eyes, "Lovino?"

"Yeah, I guess Feli told you my name already. You're uhm... Antonio, right?"

"Yeah... Nice to meet you," Antonio whispered, air crushed out of his lungs. It was definitely that same Lovino from all that time ago, but he didn't seem to remember at all. But he was alive, he hadn't died, he was really, truly standing there.

His eyes watered and his heart stopped beating, but it was out of pure honey gold joy. After so many years of his angel being gone, of his world being full of the black shadows of bitter loneliness, his light had returned. He wanted to hug him, to hold him tight, to whisper I love yous into Lovino's ear, but he couldn't. And that was more suffocating than anything else had ever been.


	2. Chapter 2

Their first conversation ended up being an awkward series of mumbles often supplimented by Feliciano's comments rather than an actual conversation. Lovino wasn't terribly good with people, Antonio could see that much, and Antonio was still in shock. Fortunately for them, Feliciano was a determined person, hellbent on getting the two of them together. Which is why Antonio showed up a week later for dinner.

"So, uhm, Feli tells me you work in the music industry," Antonio started, hoping that he could get Lovino to open up a little, maybe even get somewhere close to befriending him. Lovino responded with a silent nod, looking even more nervous than the day they had met. Antonio wondered why Lovino was so scared looking; he hadn't been when they met all those years ago. There was an answer to his question, but he didn't even register it.

"Earth to Toni, Earth to Toni!" Feli called, waving his hand in front of the space-case's face. Antonio blinked and shot up in his chair, giant smile back in place (although tattered at the edges).

"Ah, sorry, what did I miss?" Antonio asked, feeling more awkward than an asexual in a sex shop. Lovino felt the nervousness rising, his walls flying up to protect him, and the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

"Only the train back to dumbass-ville you fucking dimwit."

Then he got up and left the table before he could say anything else rude, stupid, or embarrassing. To any outsider it would appear that Lovino was an absolute asshole, but bpoth Feliciano and Antonio saw that there was no real anger in his eyes, just a scared souil. What had changed between then and now? Why was Lovino alone back then if he had a family? Why didn't he remember? What had really happened the night he thought Lovino had shot himself?

All the unanswered questions pouring over him were drowning out hisurroundings, filling up his lungs, pounding against his soul, and clogging up his throat.


End file.
